


a light so distant

by rain_at_dawn



Category: SHINee
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fantasy Metanarrative, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Celeb AU, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_at_dawn/pseuds/rain_at_dawn
Summary: Jinki and Jonghyun are the only stars that exist in each other's sky.act i: onew; it was only right to begin with a question.act ii: jonghyun; the flow of things left unsaidact iii: jinki; a reunion and an answer





	1. act i: onew

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, this is my very first fanfic written for a fandom I hold dear to my heart. This first chapter is loosely based on the 'Blue' MV. Hope you like it ~

_Where do I go from now?_

Was it so bad to start things with such a question? It did not ring in his head like a bell chime, neither did it linger long with the rough sea scent that engulfed him as soon as he opened his eyes and took a breath.

He knew this wouldn’t last long; it only felt like it would.

After all, this sad color of the sea and sky had not taken the span of a blink to build up. It had been six months of dreams; _illusions_ , he whispered to himself as he pushed himself up from the bed. The world around him was not his alone to mourn and it had taken many, many tears to build the sea that lay still as glass beneath the soles of his feet. There was no monopoly on misery – he had studied the workings of it long ago, its facts and figures gleaming on infographs and newsfeeds when he couldn’t sleep at night – and he would have to go on reminding himself this one time, in this one place that existed nowhere but whenever he opened his eyes: this ache was not his own to nurse.

The heart was a merciless fiend and the one fiend that hammered away in his chest, in clear defiance of the cold outside, begging him to take a step outside the four walls of his sparse domicile. And as always, he was an obedient slave to its whims.

A stirring in the breeze gave him pause; the windows in his room were thrown open. As to whose hands had grazed the latches, he did not wish to dwell any further. The same streak of light was making its way across the darkened sky in the distance. He allowed himself this one sin; to hope for a while, letting his gaze match the lightened path in its wake.

_Illusion_ , the voice entreated. _A fair illusion_.

He knew he was putting himself up for the worst as soon as he walked through the door. It was like this every single moment he decided to defy the voice in his head and the beast in his heart. He knew very well what lay ahead; the water was stark cold under his feet and he kept his eyes straight up, away from the reflection beneath.

But the voice and the beast were the best of companions; together, they would conspire against their master and slave. In fact, this moment would pass like any other. Nothing knew weakness better than a man’s own flesh, blood and spirit. For now, they would torment him with the punishment of Choice. It was an easy game for them to deal and regardless of the outcome, their prey would be in pieces at their behest, a grand finale set to the orchestral murmurs of _illusion, illusion, illusion_.

And as they foresaw, he stopped in his tracks, taking in the sight before him, letting out a pained exhale.  

It must have been a relic from his distant childhood; the translucent balloon tethered to the eerily calm surface, half-filled with water. When he got closer to inspect, he counted the three pale pearl-white fish, their beady eyes glistening under the shadow of his thumb as he brushed it across their prison. On his other side, a white rose grew inside a glass box, seemingly suspended at his eye level. Should he set them free, their doom was certain.

And what of things that were set free? Was that streak of light in between the cage and the end of the road worth the entire journey it would take? He had taken long journeys when he was younger; in trains, he would always occupy the window seat and take in the world as it seemed to pass him by, when he was the one doing the actual traveling. This realization had come late in life to him and now he was older, greyer, too worn through to really appreciate the wonder of it. It was just that familiar wretched answer ringing in his head again: _illusion, illusion, illusion_.

In the length of time that he took one long glance from the fish to the flower – such creatures with no other purpose than to be –  his heart began to sink a little.

He should have loved either of these instead.

What of things that are set free? He knew the answer to this question: the nature of freedom was treachery. Set something free, but make sure it was the smallest thing you owned, something small enough to fit in the palm of your hand or enclose in the grasp of your fist. Never let anything larger than you can carry free. And if you can’t make it fit, even with your cupped hands, pleading, lock it up in glass where only you can see it live and rage.

Things that are set free are only set loose to burn.

Wasn’t that how shooting stars were born? This question, he directed only to himself.

He made his decision then.

The encased memories, he left them behind, leaving behind nothing but ripples on the water. The trail of light was fading fast; he didn’t know how much time he had left or whether he would be returned to this place, as time had always pulled him back in the past. With each step, the questions began to fade. The voice in his head grew stronger, lamenting his loss of youth and beauty, how it would have been better to stay behind the glass, encapsulated and comforted in the sweetness of familiar dreams. In his chest, the fiend growled; it did not like being toyed with, worst of all by something that couldn’t be contained, a heat that seared through the everlasting cold.

One step at a time, taking him further into the great blue beyond. His head and heart were at war with something he couldn’t define within himself, except only as a force of need he needed to claim; hot and sweet, forming no shape before his eyes, feeling nothing but its presence rising in his chest.

The figures in white began to appear as they always did; silently in clusters, blindfolded and mute. With time, he had learnt only to turn away from them. If he were to look back now, they would have doubled in number, looming over him like pale white obelisks. In some cultures from the old world, if he recalled correctly, these pillars were always built in pairs. They were symbols of stability, demonstrations of creative might. But here, in nothingness, they were reminders of something to befall; to collapse. The more he would stall, the more they would tilt towards him, ready to strike with a pointed finger.

With no tongues, they could not speak, but they buzzed with an imperious rage which he could sense no matter how far he walked. The noise had to go somewhere, he supposed, and if it had to be released, he was their easiest prey. He had done himself in by leaving the safety of his abode to chase a falling star; he only had himself to blame.

And he would blame himself, after everything. All stars did were exist and who was he to reach for that distant fire, if only to understand what it meant to burn alive?

The fiend had grown silent; his heart was a stubborn beast and it was starving for something his head couldn’t give a voice to.

He would not look back this time. It was a mistake he had learned from.

But there was still yet one more figure to cross; he could see it now as it stood far off beyond from where he’d reached. It looked like a mirage of sorts, or was it his own shadow? While he tried not to let the past burden him anymore, it had a way of manifesting in ways that grew less predictable each time he woke up to follow the trail of light in the sky. There was surely a way out and it was only forward; only this one path, he was sure.

Suddenly, everything went silent.

All this time, while there had been no one else to speak, it had never been quiet. This place contained too much to be quietened like this, so what had gone wrong?

His pulse began to race in his throat and the world began to spin, in blue, in grey, in streaks of crackling effervescence. Breathe now, breathe, he told himself, trying to gather what was left of his wits. There was a shift above him; he glanced up, startled, his gaze anxiously wavering from the water to the sky, in expectation of one of the white specters hovering above him. As his eyes settled on the parted clouds, his breath caught.

After all this time, things were about to change. The shooting star had changed its course and was now heading straight for him.

_Where will you go from now?_

The voice that spoke had no name; just a presence. He had heard it before in a time that was so bittersweet. It was dulcet-tongued and gold-toned and silver-lined and all the things that only light could have been, if it were a song. And right there in the distance was the source, the lone star of the sky hurtling right towards him. The colorless life he’d led up to this point flashed before his eyes: from the fragility of his childhood memories soaked in sepia to the rain-drenched backgrounds of his student days, upon which now lay fragments of light. Light and warmth, the wreckage of words which were left unsaid.

He remembered now; he had been a fool to let his true heart – what was left of whatever the fiend hadn’t devoured – be sunk by the weight of these unshed tears. The true reason for his torment was his alone; if he would not make his choice now, he would wake up the next time with no one but himself to blame. Even so, the fear of what lay at the end of the world he’d built was a heavy one. If he just swallowed his tears again, he would be returned to his familiar landscape, the most blue and barren of them all. But if he left himself to the light, what would become of him?

When the rest of the sky would fall, what would be left of what lay above it? Would there be any more stars left to shine?

The star was drawing ever so close and he felt like he was a million miles away from the answer.

Time held in a breath of its own; the star above him seemed to bloom like a flower. A thing which was set free was most beautiful and dangerously fragile. It demanded nothing but the heat of everything in the moment. It craved the world and nothing more. It demanded nothing less in return than what one kept most precious and hidden. In that brief second of vulnerability, the life which still lay ahead was illuminated. Millions upon millions of stars in the entire vastness of the galaxy and this was the one that had to reach him. It was the only one he could have seen, the only light that ever could have reached the world he’d kept to himself for so long.

The heat of the star was now so close, he could taste it; sweet as a pair of lips pressed to his. It was reaching for him, calling for him with the promise of an embrace. He held still to himself, feet rooted to the surface of the water as the star hurtled closer. There was no more fear in his eyes as their gazes met; it had been too long to allow anything else but for what he could feel filling up in his chest right at this very moment.

He reached out with both his hands cupped and –


	2. act ii: jonghyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the flow of things left unsaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some elements from the Shinin' MV

The sudden flicker of lights above startled Jonghyun, causing him to drop the book he’d been immersed in. He glanced upwards and was met with the glare from an overhanging disco ball which had suddenly descended from the dark void of the warehouse ceiling.

Kibum’s voice rang out from somewhere: “Just testing.”

Jonghyun frowned; he’d better get back to the place he’d stopped at. Except when he picked up the book again, it was missing the grocery receipt that had become his impromptu bookmark as of half an hour ago. For someone who’d confessed to never being able to let go of things, he did have a peculiar knack for losing the smallest ones. Bookmarks were especially tricky to hang on to; he’d made use of anything from paper napkins to uncapped pens to guitar picks to keep his place between the pages. No more half-empty coffee mugs standing on them though; he remembered he’d learned that the hard way as his gaze fell on the old dark stain on the book’s spine.

The friend who’d let him borrow the book wouldn’t have minded, he thought, feeling guilty all the same. It was already an old worn paperback anyway.

‘Well-loved’ was a phrase his friend would’ve used.

A frisson of heat made Jonghyun’s palms tingle. Must be the coffee; he’d sworn himself off it for most of the last six months, but since tonight was going to be a long one, he’d bought a new thermos. It was large enough to last until the next morning, even enough to keep his pulse humming well after the party.

“Um, excuse me?”

Another interruption, another jolt which had him dropping his – no, his friend’s – book again. From his place on the floor, sitting cross-legged with his back resting against a bare cement wall, next to his DJ set-up, he had to crane his neck upwards to respond to the questioner. A blink later and he was scrambling to stand to get a better look at the figure in front of him.

An elf? A fairy? Fairy prince?

Jonghyun had to blink again for his eyes to come back into focus. Once his vision settled, the sight was a little less fascinating; even with being swathed in an oversized black hoodie and jeans with tattered knees, he could tell the figure was lissome. The hood was down, revealing smooth blond hair framing the most angelic face he’d seen in a while. Smooth cheeks, glowing subtly beneath the few spotlights switched on, ending in a sharp jawline, softened by plush pink lips. It took a while for Jonghyun to realize that this figment from a fairytale had spoken again, to him.

“Excuse me?” The voice was meek.

“Sorry, I didn’t get you?”

The fairy-elf thing fidgeted in his hoodie, blinking too much and clasping his Starbucks to his chest, and replied: “I’m Lee Taemin.”

This broke the spell. Jonghyun gave the kid another once-over and all he could come up with was “Oh?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m, uh, booked for tonight?” Another nervous flutter of his fingers around the tall plastic Grande. “I’m supposed – I’ll be performing.”

A light went on in Jonghyun’s head.

“Oh yeah. Then it’s Boa you’re looking for. She’s right there.” He pointed to the stage which had come up nicely despite the rush of arrangements, where most of the production team were gathered to work on some last-minute adjustments. “I’m just the DJ.”

That seemed just fine for Taemin, judging from the apologetic smile that alighted on his lips as he began to walk away. “Ah, I’m sorry…”

Jonghyun made sure Taemin was well out of hearing distance before rounding on another figure smirking from their hiding place in the shadows.

“Bummie.” He whined. “What was all that about?”

Kibum resurfaced into the light, smirk still in place and his own Starbucks hot in his grasp. “What? Don’t tell me you didn’t think he was cute.”

“To be honest, I didn’t even think he was…” Jonghyun struggled for the right words, hitting on them as soon as Taemin crossed beneath one of the moving lights directed at the stage. “From this world.”

“So? Is that bad? You’re the one reading fantasy novels in the middle of work prep.”

Jonghyun tightened his grip on the paperback. “It’s not fantasy. It’s… an anthology. Just prose, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Like I even asked.” Kibum didn’t break his stare, even as he took a long sip from his paper cup. “Besides, _Blue_? You’ve read that one, like, eighty times already.”

“So?”

“Is that how you’ve spent the last couple of months? Shut up in your room _reading_?”

Technically, Jonghyun was sure he could answer this truthfully. But then again –

“Yes.” He met Kibum’s stare, clear-eyed. “Reading.”

“Amongst other – ”

“Just reading, Kibum. You should try it.”

“Oh, but I do like books, Jjong. And I like the rest of my life too.” Kibum leaned closer, curling his fingers around the hand Jonghyun still had wrapped around the book that had set them on this trajectory. “It’s just that I sometimes wonder if you like the rest of your life too.”

Jonghyun wavered.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind, Bummie. It’s not that I meant to drop off the radar…”

“Of course, you didn’t. I know that, I know it’s just how you are sometimes, and normally I wouldn’t worry.” The grip on Jonghyun’s wrist grew tighter, but he knew that was just Kibum’s way of saying that he cared. “I dunno, it’s like you’re caved in somehow. Do you get out at all?

Jonghyun would have answered, but Kibum cut him off perfectly. “Aside from work.”

“The gym.” Jonghyun countered. He hoped this conversation wouldn’t last long; he had plenty of words left to use and he needed to save them for later.

He sought comfort from the book’s bent spine, running a finger down the old paper. It would come off with a stain, a blue one, just like its title. He had lost his place in the story just when things had started to get better for the protagonist.

_Now where do I go?_

* * *

It had begun on New Year’s Eve.

Amidst the soft fuzz of his brain after all that soju, the world hadn’t yet lost its shine. He had come out to watch a Cloud Nine9 concert, take advantage of some cheap snacks and beer, and maybe enjoy whatever else the night would unfold before him. The band was playing outdoors, despite the temperature, so maybe even a bowl of hot soup served in a plastic cup would suffice. And if there would be anyone who caught his eye, despite everything, he wouldn’t let himself be caught in return. All he wanted from tonight was a sense of peace and nothing substantial in return for anything he needed to set free into the world.

And then someone had caught his eye, and that someone’s smile had been so much warmer than the soup and brighter than the fairy lights hung around in the trees, and he had done nothing but stupidly smile back. All Jonghyun had wanted was to flirt a little, just to tease his senses, just dip his toes, and that someone’s smile had faltered a little, slightly large front teeth grazing a full bottom lip, innocent and unaware of how time in Jonghyun’s head seemed to have slowed down.

The next steps came by in parts that might have unwound too fast or too slowly: they were arm-in-arm, walking towards the river, still treading the borders of friendliness and flirtation, the skin underneath Jonghyun’s winter jacket prickling each time they accidently jostled. Then they had reached the water’s edge and then they had seated themselves at one of the picnic tables which came with attached wooden benches. They might have talked in-between, outside of the flirting. Their voices had gone soft around the edges; Jonghyun remembered he liked the sound of this someone’s laughter, deep and throaty and crackling with life.

And then the world had gone quiet; the laughter seemed to have been carried away with the breeze once their lips met. Jonghyun had just wanted to try, for the sake of nothing but the feel of it, just to hear how the other would gasp when he snuck his tongue inside. Their hands entwined beneath the table.

Jonghyun had allowed himself to be led away by the very same hand that still grasped his, the heat of the moment palpable in their palms. They didn’t have far to go; his new friend lived close to where they’d started. There wasn’t much they’d said to lead up to this point, though Jonghyun wouldn’t have had anything else to add. As soon as they crossed the threshold of the apartment, he’d sought his lips again and was welcomed once more, those now-familiar teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

It had chimed midnight somewhere, while they were in bed. It didn’t matter; they had already moved far past the kissing stage.

All the while, a name nestled its way into the corner of Jonghyun’s mouth, nudging itself through his other moans and pants of ‘yes’, ‘please’ and ‘right there’ as he opened himself up to the body thrusting into him. Even if he’d already given this much up, he knew he couldn’t afford anything more; when you were given someone’s name, you both laid claim to it and set it free. This much was true, this much was dangerous.

Lips on his jaw, that impressive length buried deep inside him, glazing right over that elusive spot –

He was back to the beginning of the night, when he’d first heard it.

_“I’m Jinki.”_

_Jinki, Jinki, Jinki._

Jonghyun hooked his arms around him, pulling his face to his, wanting to taste his lips again, wanting to apologize for this one mistake.

* * *

 

_Okay_

It was the last response he’d received from Jinki. All Jonghyun had wanted to let him know was that he would be waiting for him when he returned. There hadn’t even been an accompanying emoji to make him overthink further; an ‘okay’, okay?

Was he –

“Stop squirming, would you?” Kibum groused as he fussed over Jonghyun’s hairstyle. “Your roots are showing…”

They were changing into their ‘work clothes’ for tonight in a cubicle one of the warehouse restrooms; the event management company Kibum worked for had put in the effort to make this one of the standouts on Seoul’s social calendar and Jonghyun supposed he should consider himself lucky to get a gig as good as this. The work should have kept him mind occupied. Kibum had even rented a suit for him; he ought to feel grateful for the distraction.

Liar, he thought bitterly. He didn’t need anything but an answer. His phone-screen glared back in return.

“Kibum, hey, just stop.” He batted at the intruding hand, fending it off from now tugging at the lapels of his jacket. He was careful not to reveal the blue smudge on his right index finger; he wasn’t in a fit mood for more questions. “You have other things to get done, do you?”

Kibum huffed. “Such a mood. You know you look good, thanks to me?”

“When did I ever not?”

“Since you decided the life of a hermit was better suited to your wardrobe choices, so technically, since your last break-up.”

The heat rose in Jonghyun’s cheeks; he was wearing a red suit. This wasn’t helping things.

“I never had anyone to break up with.”

“Sure.” Kibum hummed over the freshly opened jar of hair gel. “I guess all you were doing was hanging out with your book-club buddies while canceling your plans with me.”      

“It was just that one time – ”

“Thrice.”

“Kibum.” Jonghyun reached out to clasp him by the elbows. “I’m sorry.”

He meant it. This at least, Kibum could tell, even if he didn’t miss a beat with swiping the last of Jonghyun’s baby hairs away from his forehead. His touch was a tad less harsh than it had been earlier. “Honestly, I wasn’t mad.”

This was news to Jonghyun. “You weren’t?”

“You seemed happy for a while. Happier. I could tell.”

The weight in Jonghyun’s chest expanded a little. He could almost feel it push up towards the lump in his throat.

* * *

It was an easy arrangement; between Jonghyun’s late night work at the radio recording studio and Jinki’s shifts at the hospital, they didn’t need to meet up more than was necessary. They hadn’t exactly agreed on what was enough to deem ‘necessary’, but it was rare that Jonghyun got to visit the tiny studio apartment during the day. It was even rarer that he would sleep through the rest of the night after falling into Jinki’s bed in a flurry of buttons coming undone and hasty kisses on any patch of bare skin each could find on the other. He must have been so worn out; he could blame it on work as he scrubbed Jinki off of himself in Jinki’s shower, with Jinki’s soap and shampoo.

It was already noon by then. Jinki had let him sleep in.

A few months had passed since that one night they’d first kissed; the nights between now and then had blossomed on their own accord. Where one was willing, the other was always available at that odd hour in the morning where nothing passed in the summer air but heat and wordless secrets.

But right now wasn’t a time of day Jonghyun was fond of. He had come to love only the night and its shadowed fallacies, which he could draw on for inspiration, even when he barely had the strength to face the dawn. The thick yellow heat of the afternoon which seeped through the small glass rectangle of a window in the bathroom was enough to make him recoil under the clothes he pulled on. These were his tank-top, his shirt and his jeans, all turned inside out from last night and still faintly scented with the cologne he’d applied before driving to the studio. Putting them on felt strange, like an old skin he’d just shed.

Jinki was already up and annotating an assigned reading, perched on a barstool placed against the narrow counter-top that separated the living room area from the kitchen. He might not have heard Jonghyun pad by barefoot, might not have noticed the way Jonghyun’s glance darted from his damp hair – still tousled from how it had been pulled last night – to the bookshelves lining the wall opposite them. At least these would do for distraction.

The shelves were small and Jonghyun had to crouch to read the titles: a lot of paperbacks and medical textbooks, most of them secondhand if he had to go by the wear and tear on their edges. A gleaming trilogy easily stood out. Jonghyun raised an eyebrow, tracing the smooth glossy finish of the hardback spine. “Lord of the Rings?”

“Hm?” Jinki’s head bobbed up over his notes, quizzical. “Well… yeah?”

Jonghyun couldn’t help the smile that broke over his face. _Nerd_ , he wanted to sing out, just to tease, but settled for “Cute.”

“Hmph.”

Jinki’s tight-lipped grimace was a muddled one, hiding something, stoking Jonghyun’s curiosity. He rose from his crouch and sidled closer to the space next to Jinki.

“So what else do you like?”

Jinki wasn’t biting.

“Fishing.”

Then Jonghyun would just nibble harder.

“That’s cute.”

His index finger and thumb were pecking at Jinki’s writing hand, knowing full well where and what they’d been playing at most of last night. The letters forming under Jinki’s pen were growing smaller and cramped. Jonghyun decided to take pity on him and just keep words out of the picture altogether.

He finally managed to wrestle the pen out of Jinki’s grasp and replaced it with his hand. It seemed then that Jinki had finally given up; it was his hands that were pulling Jonghyun in, his legs parting to allow Jonghyun to stand between them, chests pressed flush together. Jinki wasn’t smiling, but he might have been. The room had grown brighter, the walls were starched white with sunlight, and it was all a waste because Jonghyun had his eyes shut as he bent down to kiss Jinki over and over again, trying to recreate the night from the debris hidden beneath the smell of soap from their showers and the sweat it was supposed to wash off. He pressed in harder; Jinki drew him in.

If the whole day would have melted away from that corner in Jinki’s apartment forever – or for as long as it took to catch their breaths in time for their lips to meet again – Jonghyun could kiss Jinki for just as long. It was a hot and heavy feeling which curled low in his belly; all he would have to do was get a leg up and around Jinki’s hip, and let the gravity of their bad decisions take them wherever they could end up next, over the countertop, across the couch, on the floor, back to the bedroom as if they could rewind.

Jinki’s thumbs rubbed circles into his hips; the blood returned to Jonghyun’s head.

He slowly latched off of Jinki’s mouth, kissing the corner.

“I have a programme to plan for tonight.” Another chaste kiss to Jinki’s cheek. “And a meeting.”

Another on the tip of his nose. Just because.

“Raincheck?”

Jinki’s eyes fluttered open, but didn’t meet Jonghyun’s. “Sure.”

“Are you mad?

“No.”

Jinki had smiled and Jonghyun wanted to kiss that away too. But he’d meant it when he told Jinki he’d be back, even as he pulled away. He liked everything about Jinki, each night, every night, even on days like this.

And as he walked away from the apartment building, he felt the real heat of summer seep beneath his skin, setting his heart ablaze.

* * *

“C’mon, just let it out.”

Jonghyun allowed Kibum to dab at the tear leaking from the corner of one eye, before turning away to swipe at the other. “I’m okay.”

“Was it that bad?” Kibum gently prodded.

Nothing had ever been bad with Jinki. Except Jonghyun.

“Your eyeliner’s getting smudged.” He told Kibum. The cubicle had gotten smaller; it had always been and Jonghyun needed to get out before Kibum could squeeze more dumb thoughts out of him. If these had to go anywhere, it was nowhere. He forced himself out of the cubicle – ignoring Kibum’s bark of ‘Hold on, I’m not even ready!’ – straightened his tie before the glass over the line of sinks and left the washroom. Neither he nor Kibum had done as thorough a job of wiping the moisture from his eyes; his left eye was clouded as he nearly sent a wayward figure crumpling down the hallway.

“Shit, I’m so sorry – ” He immediately stooped down to help; the blond head which came into view shook the bangs out of his eyes, a bashful grimace rising. Lee Taemin, Jonghyun recalled, and he could have been mistaken with the wardrobe change. The skin on Taemin’s arm was pristine, the muscles smooth and supple.

“You okay?” He asked and Taemin’s grimace morphed into an embarrassed smile, befitting someone much younger. The skintight sleeveless top and leggings made Jonghyun think of children performing at their first ballets. Cute.

“I’m fine.”

Jonghyun felt less unsettled. “That’s good. You must have worked hard for tonight?”

Crap, he didn’t mean for that to come out as a question. Luckily, Taemin hadn’t noticed, or pretended not to.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Both dancing and singing?” Jonghyun could practically feel the sole of his boot hit the roof of his mouth. “Sorry, that’s me being stupid. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“Yeah – I mean, yes.” Taemin’s hands fluttered around themselves, painfully in need of a distraction. “I hope I do well.”

Jonghyun decided that he’d better bail both of them out. He raised a fist with a smile he hoped would come off as genuine. “Fighting, then.”

Taemin’s response of both fists raised – so round and soft compared to his, Jonghyun noted, mentally sighing – completed itself. “Fighting.”

Jonghyun nodded as Taemin hurriedly took his leave with a bow.

“My God, that was horrible.” Kibum had an uncanny sense of timing when it came to reappearances; Jonghyun couldn’t shake off the sense of déjà vu. “My matchmaking skills and I stand corrected, Jjong.”

This was as close to an apology Jonghyun knew he would get, but he wouldn’t let it slide so easily. “He’s sweet, Bum.”

“Oh, I forgot. You always did prefer the salty ones.”

“He wasn’t even that tall.”

“I thought his prettiness would make up for it. He _is_ pretty, isn’t he?” Kibum nudged Jonghyun in the side; when he didn’t get as much as a look, he groaned and snuck his hands onto Jonghyun’s shoulders, twisting the skin where his fingers pressed. “I didn’t bank on his social skills being on the same level as an anteater.”

“I’m sure he’s nice, Bum.” Jonghyun began to move down the hall, allowing Kibum to trail behind, still attached to him. “Just not my type.”

* * *

It became a game; a fairly harmless one, in which he would prod Jinki with a smile meant to be coy (“So what else do you like?”) and wait for Jinki to react to the hand on his thigh or the fingers brushing a strand of hair from his face when he got too close. And Jinki would flash that sublime little smile of his as he reached under Jonghyun’s shirt to brush his thumbs over the line of fine hair that trailed down below his navel, or higher up, counting the ribs until he reached the firm lines of pectoral muscle to lightly graze a nipple.

(“So what do _you_ like, Jonghyun?”

Jonghyun would answer later in pecks to the smooth flesh of Jinki’s inner thighs, in wet strokes of his tongue from one side of Jinki’s hip to the other before traveling south.

Never in words. Jinki specialized in the workings of the human body; Jonghyun hoped he got the message.)

There was nothing but a whole lot of like between him and Jinki. Jonghyun made sure of that; he had the afterglow of another late afternoon session tucked under Jinki’s duvet and Jinki himself to prove it. It had now been a while since the sun had set and Jinki had switched on the bedroom light to get dressed for an autumn Med Ball the local physicians’ union was throwing for interns and residents. Jonghyun lingered awhile in Jinki’s bed while the shower ran, stretching his limbs as he tried to pick up where he left off from the paperback he’d nicked from Jinki’s bookshelf. He’d used a pencil to mark his place last time, but it had probably been knocked out and rolled away when they had gotten restless.

Jonghyun figured losing his place didn’t matter much; he would just get back to the beginning of the story.

He heard the sound of the shower turning off from across the hallway. Later, he smelt Jinki’s cologne before he caught a glimpse of him over the top of the page he was reading; Jonghyun burrowed his nose deeper into the book to hide his snigger. Jinki was padding around in house-slippers, plain grey boxers and a clean white vest, toweling off his wet hair like any old neighborhood ahjusshi at home. He must have let loose a chuckle because Jinki seemed to prick his ears before turning to him with a confused expression. Jonghyun shook his head and returned to the line –

_Illusion, the voice entreated. A fair illusion._

“I didn’t think you’d like that one.” He heard Jinki speak from across the room. Jonghyun glanced again, in time to find Jinki pulling on a pair of charcoal grey trousers.

Maybe it was time he put on some clothes too.

“I do like reading too, you know.” Jonghyun replied, scanning the floor for the path he and Jinki had taken while unraveling each other, hoping to find his underwear amongst the trail of clothes. “I probably have more books over at my place than you do.”

“I guessed as much.”

Jinki had slid one of his arms into the ironed long sleeve of a shirt that had been kept ready on a wire hanger perched on his bedroom door knob. It was not without remorse that Jonghyun watched the cloth cover the bare skin, but as Jinki’s complete look began to take form, he wasn’t sure he would be able to look away in any case.

He liked Jinki, that was for sure; every little thing and Jonghyun would only take the littlest things.

“You guessed as much?”

“Yeah, like poetry and stuff though. Not fantasy trilogies.” Jinki had his eyes cast down as he buttoned up his shirt. “Was I wrong?”

It was like a spark went off somewhere in Jonghyun. Before he could fully process why, he spotted his briefs near the corner of the room, crumpled near the foot of the door; he threw the duvet aside and practically leapt across to sweep it up, and then wrestled himself into it with all the finesse of a newborn calf.

Jinki’s laughter crackled in the air, taking Jonghyun back to that night by the river.

“What?”

“What?” Jinki echoed him. “Was I that far off the mark?”

Jonghyun tried to glare, but Jinki’s grin wouldn’t budge. The spark had lit something hotter and wilder, and now Jinki just _stood_ there, buckling his belt, tucking his shirt into his trousers. Jonghyun’s gaze wavered from his waist to the swell of his Adam’s apple; he ended up tearing himself away from staring at Jinki and lunged back into the bed, quickly reaching for the paperback as a decoy.

He had lost his place in his book – Jinki’s book – again. Fuck it.

Jinki wouldn’t hold any of this against him, as always. He continued with his dressing, humming a Lee Juck tune, while Jonghyun tried to extinguish the flames tickling the palms of his hands and making them sweat. Jinki had a date for the Med Ball tonight and it wasn’t Jonghyun. He had been set up with ‘a really nice girl’ – his friend Minho’s girlfriend’s friend – who worked at a dance studio. Jinki had shown Jonghyun her SNS page; Jonghyun hadn’t said anything, but noted her tanned, thin legs and perfectly creased eye smile. 15k followers.

“She does YouTube too.” Jinki had quipped. “Beauty product reviews. Huh.”

Jonghyun had nodded.

By now, Jinki had put on his jacket and was fiddling with a comb, parting his hair in one direction, then changing his mind to another. Jonghyun tried to return to reading, nonchalance personified, only taking minor notice of Jinki’s low tsks and hm’s. As background noise, it wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

“Hey, Jonghyun?” His reflection met Jinki’s glance in the full-length mirror propped against the opposite wall. “D’you know anything about hairstyles?”

Jonghyun gave up on the book; _Blue_ could wait.

But first, his jeans.

He felt Jinki’s eyes brush over his bare back and legs as he bent to pick them up from where they’d landed half underneath the bed. “D’you have any hair gel?”

Jinki nodded. “In the bathroom. Wait a minute.”

He left Jonghyun to drag his jeans up over his thighs as he went to retrieve the tub, which given the extent of their previous activities in the very same room, was almost funny. Jonghyun almost smiled when Jinki returned with the gel, presenting it to him with a sanctity normally reserved for an anointment, so he figured he wouldn’t take the rest of what happened next as seriously. The lid was duly twisted off and the stickiness of the gel when Jonghyun rubbed it onto his palms was unpleasant. But then he got to play around with Jinki’s hair, just like he’d seen Kibum do with some of his clients as well as himself, and that made up for just about everything.

“Jinki, look down.”

Jinki obeyed, so that their eyes met. Jonghyun grabbed the comb, opting to make a neat side parting and brush most of the hair towards the left. It was easy enough for him get done in a few minutes. The result in the mirror spoke for itself. He watched as Jinki examined himself.

Jonghyun liked every little thing about Jinki: the wrinkles that appeared in the corners of his eyes when he laughed at Jonghyun’s jokes (even the lame ones), the pad of his thumb when he wiped off Jonghyun’s bottom lip, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he attempted to whistle along with him, how he attempted to whistle at all, how his palm fit against the back of Jonghyun’s head when he lowered him onto his bed or couch, how he always asked for permission with a gentle squeeze or brush of his lips, how he genuinely seemed to like what he got in return for whatever little Jonghyun had to give him.  

The little things were adding up.

Jinki looked towards him again and Jonghyun couldn’t help but blurt, “I love poetry.”

Jinki hadn’t nodded, but smiled, and Jonghyun knew he had to leave. After finding his shirt and jacket, he allowed Jinki to wave him off at the doorway and kept up a brisk pace to where he’d parked his car earlier. If he’d lingered longer, the fire building in his chest would have burned through his words and made them scorch. As he shifted gears and stepped on the accelerator, his mind began moving a mile a minute to put the heat out; he’d clear his head of anything except his show for tonight. No more smoke signals; Jinki would be busy nestling that girl’s hand in the crook of his elbow as he walked her to their table, laughing politely at her jokes. He wouldn’t have time to tune in for Blue Night with Jonghyun, right at the same time as the old classic from Lee Juck, Boyz II Men, or Jason Mraz would come on.

(“So you remembered I liked ‘I Won’t Give Up’.” He had once murmured in disbelief to Jonghyun as they came down from another post-coital high, 03:02 AM glowing sharp and red over the sofa arm just above from where Jinki’s head lay. “When did I tell you that?”

Jonghyun had smiled, nuzzling deeper into the place where Jinki’s neck – marked with his teeth – met his shoulder. “I know everything you like.”

He hadn’t meant it to mean so much.)

For the rest of the night, Jonghyun stuck close to his notes, enunciating slowly and carefully so that his words came out crisp, clear and cool on-air. The studio was always a calming influence; he couldn’t have been more grateful. Tonight’s playlist even included a Lee Juck song and he hadn’t flinched. It was all going so smoothly until it was time to wrap things up.

He almost hadn’t noticed the text. His phone was always on Silent – Kibum never let him forget the missed texts, even if they were forgiven eventually – and yet, he noticed the light blinking right on time and swiped:

Jinki had sent him a photo. It wasn’t the cheeky selca Jonghyun had expected, complete with his date still hanging off of his arm, but a dark blurry snapshot taken from far below the sky, in-between a building and streetlight, of a full moon appearing from behind the night clouds.

_‘pretty ~’_

Jonghyun wanted to throttle him.

Go Youngbae was calling out to him, something about a score which needed to be settled over a round of billiards or soju, whichever came easier at three in the morning. Instead, Jonghyun walked into the nearest corner of the recording booth, frowning as he tapped a response:

_‘how’d the party go’_

_‘good :)’_

_‘and the date?’_

Jonghyun contemplated adding an emoji – something dumb enough to hide behind – but hit send instead.

_‘she’s cool’_

It took eight seconds for Jinki to finish typing the next response: _‘she’s into musicals too’_

Jonghyun blinked, grimaced and then laughed bitterly within the span of two seconds. He should take this as a sign.

_‘say, have you seen legally blonde_

_she offered me two free tickets ^^’_

The spark was back in Jonghyun’s chest again. Youngbae was back at the door, loudly announcing that there was a new place opened two weeks ago, just two minutes of walking away, wasn’t that lucky? Jonghyun kept tapping:

_‘i think i’ll pass_

_i might have plans’_

He did owe Kibum for bailing out on their lunch date last Wednesday.

_‘okay’_

The hell did that mean? Jonghyun glared at the response.

_‘where are you anyway’_

_‘walking’_

_‘where?’_

_‘home. walking home ~’_

What did it mean, what was Jinki trying to say –

  _‘the others went out for coffee afterwards_

_‘i told them my shift starts at 6’_

In the afternoon. Was Jinki planning to spend all day sleeping in tomorrow, technically today –

_‘i’ll be home in another 20 min’_

It usually took thirty minutes for Jonghyun to drive there; at this time, with no traffic, even less.

He started off at a jog from the studio’s main entrance, ignoring the production staff’s curious glances and Youngbae’s shrill catcall (“He’s in luck tonight!”), to his car, pressing the button on his keychain to unlock the door and then jamming the keys into the ignition as soon he was seated, and he imagined if he could see right though himself now, straight to his heart, he’d find everything alight, from his thrumming veins to his knuckles clenched white hot on the leather cover of the steering wheel, to the flushed red lining the skin of his neck, to the very tips of his fingers that would certainly have singed anything – or anyone – he touched.    

* * *

When the lights went from red to blue, Jonghyun went back to the night – early morning – that kissing Jinki had become a relief. Not just as a relief from work or stress, but just a relief in itself. Two hours had passed since his set began and the warehouse was milling with attendees sipping on martinis, slipping into and around each other in a well-practiced performance of societal niceties. There was even a dance floor for when things were expected to really heat up; under the strobes, just lingering where the shadows were darkest, Jonghyun could make out the shapes of bare limbs brushing against each other.

The blue lights made the white table-tops and the napkins perched on them glow eerily, and if the warehouse would have been completely empty and flipped upside down, it might have reminded him of stars. If his imagination, fueled by the last dregs of coffee and loneliness, could serve him well, he would picture Jinki in the emptiness of space, just like Onew in the novel he’d had to put down, wandering about, waiting for his own star to fall.

Imagining it took him back to that one stupid night of the Med Ball and afterwards when he’d run a stoplight on his way back to Jinki’s apartment. He couldn’t find the same parking spot he’d used on his last visit on the very same day, and ended up scrambling for the first empty space he could find a few blocks away. The blast of air that hit him as soon as he got out from the car was hot and humid, which he hated. The walk past the convenience store, the little modern laundry and the family-run pharmacy made him sweat sticky rivulets beneath his clothes, which he also hated. He was doing all this shit because he liked Jinki so much, which he was beginning to think he hated most.

But around the corner, he looked up and met Jinki’s gaze from across the street where his apartment stood.

The jacket was off, folded over Jinki’s right arm, while the other arm lay loose at his side with the hand in his pocket as he leaned with his back against the building. Jonghyun’s hard work with the hair gel was now for naught, ruined by the moisture in the air, leaving Jinki’s hair slightly fluffy at the sides, with stray brown tendrils damp with sweat on his forehead. He had been brushing these away when he caught Jonghyun staring.

Jonghyun remembered breaking into a run. Towards the apartment, towards Jinki.

(“You’re making me crazy.” Jonghyun had sworn into Jinki’s mouth minutes later, after they were safe upstairs, as he took to fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

Jinki had not smiled or nodded, but gripped Jonghyun’s hips harder as they ground into his lap to make the rest of his point known.)

Jonghyun remembered how the rest of _Blue_ had gone; Onew heading straight towards the path of the shooting star, waiting for the impending heat to embrace his skin.

* * *

Jinki had once nipped him with his teeth too hard during a kiss; it wasn’t enough to break the skin on Jonghyun’s lip, but it made him wince and Jinki had immediately pulled away, apologizing. They were already stripped bare, naked skin agonizingly warm from friction, hair mussed and Jonghyun’s erection throbbing against the soft flesh of Jinki’s stomach. Jinki’s lips moved down Jonghyun’s jawline, angling for the vein in his neck, while all Jonghyun wanted to do was laugh. He slid his hands up the smooth expanse of Jinki’s back, drawing up his knees to let him fall in deeper, sensing each muscular twitch and exhale which collapsed in a breath against his throat.

With that one slip, Jinki’s touch was lighter, erring on the side of caution despite Jonghyun’s coaxing. His fingers brushed carefully over his thighs, spreading them gently as he leaned down to nose about the fine hair in that space between. Jonghyun sensed the absence of something in Jinki’s sudden reserve.

“Hey…”

Attentive as ever, Jinki paused in his ministrations and lifted his face from Jonghyun’s crotch, though his lashes were lowered. Jonghyun sat up, leaned closer to him so he could place his hands on Jinki’s firm shoulders and whisper quietly enough not to break whatever was left of the mood: “Lemme ride you?”

Jinki’s eyes flickered to his and stayed there for a second, before he let out the breath he was holding: “Okay.”

Jonghyun’s hands moved down to Jinki’s hips, motioning for him to roll over to be straddled. Jinki moved off of him and settled against the headboard of his bed, his gaze heated as Jonghyun moved over him to finally palm his length.

It was a familiar pattern; Jonghyun had been in this position enough times to know how Jinki liked it, where to caress and kiss, which places to scrape his teeth against, which places to suck or nibble to earn a moan. The strain on his thighs was worth it to hear such a sound; every squeeze on his hips, the bruises lingering and left to itch days later under his jeans. He just wanted Jinki to know that he loved it too.

And this time seemed to end well enough. Jinki came hard, burying a gasp in Jonghyun’s sweaty chest as he continued to work him open, driving himself to push upwards still, until the last messy thrust had Jonghyun dissolving into a trembling heap in Jinki’s arms. He couldn’t help reaching for Jinki to pull him closer, just one more sloppy kiss before they both collapsed onto the mattress. And when that wasn’t enough, he moved steadily closer until he could kiss him again, taste the salt on his skin. Jinki made no move to stop him.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Jonghyun murmured, after their third kiss. He could feel Jinki’s cheeks slip free from his grip as he turned to lie on his stomach with his arms folded against his face.

“It’s nothing.”

Jonghyun wouldn’t push it. It was about time for him to leave; he would clean himself up, leave Jinki with a chaste kiss on the forehead and vanish into the night, until the next time he or Jinki would summon each other with a text. Simple as that.

He curled up next to Jinki, allowing his bare feet to slide against the other’s soles and his arm to wind around his waist. He would allow himself this much.

Jinki’s shoulders tensed and relaxed with each breath; Jonghyun waited.

Finally: “Lost a patient today.”

There was still enough space between them for Jonghyun to close by letting his head rest on Jinki’s back, right over a shoulder blade. Jinki would occasionally talk about things that went beyond the scope of the small space he and Jonghyun occupied temporarily; what kind of people he saw on his rounds, the things he learnt from senior residents and physicians, something funny his dad had said, the way his mum would nag him about getting enough to eat. Jonghyun always listened, because he liked what little glimpses he had of that part of the world Jinki inhabited, even if it seemed like a million miles away from his and he liked the lightness that seemed to inflect Jinki’s voice whenever he spoke of them. And because he still liked Jinki, wherever he happened to exist at any given time.

“That’s awful.” He said, trying to keep the fires down, from consuming the rest of his words. “It can’t have been your fault, right?”

Again, it was a while before Jinki answered. “Technically, no.”

And then:

“She just bled out too fast. Before anyone could do anything.”

And then:

“She was young. It was just a traffic accident. People survive worse.”

And then:

“I held her hand. I’d told her everything was going to be okay.”

Something inside Jinki fractured, not a femur or wrist-bone, just something only the two of them could feel in that moment. Jonghyun briefly wondered at the irony of how to heal someone who was supposed to know how to heal; he could only hold Jinki and listen to whatever else came next.

And nothing did.

“Jinki.”

The power a name had; when someone gave you theirs, you had claim to them, and they over you.

“Jinki, things aren’t okay now. But they’ll get better. I know it will.”

Jonghyun wished he had the same power over the rest of the words that came after Jinki’s name. He didn’t want a claim over Jinki, just enough strength to wrap around him and keep him afloat. What if a name could be a buoy instead?

_Jinki_ , he wanted to keep saying, keep singing it, if that was all it took to lull him to peace, _Jinki, Jinki, Jinki_.

Jinki’s breath evened out in time and Jonghyun knew he had to leave.

Instead, he lay there with his head on Jinki’s shoulder and his arm around his waist, gazing out the window at the night sky, as if it had the answers.

* * *

Red, the lights were changing back to red now, and even as Lee Taemin stood on the stage with his face set to the curious audience, all Jonghyun could think of was Jinki’s, as he’d lain asleep, the faintest hint of wetness dappling the ends of his lashes.

He tried to put himself back in the present, as the bass dropped and so did every preconceived notion he’d had of Taemin.

The instrumentals of the song were something Jonghyun could appreciate: dark and slick, without the grease that came with some producers’ styles. A fitting complement for Taemin’s smooth, husky vocals.

“Fuck, would you look at those hips?” Kibum groaned from beside him. “I swear the universe is conspiring to prove me wrong on every point tonight.”

Jonghyun tried to laugh and it came out as a sigh.

Kibum must have taken note for later, because as soon as the break between Taemin’s performance and Jonghyun’s next set approached, he was already beckoning him down the steps from his DJ set-up, tucking his arm around Jonghyun’s waist and leading him through the crowd. Kibum introduced him to models mostly: the tall chiseled type Jonghyun might have professed a fondness for at some point in their friendship. It might have been before Jinki; no, it must have been.

It definitely had been before Jinki.

Kibum’s hand on his waist was soft and reassuring; he wouldn’t let Jonghyun do anything he’d regret.

Jonghyun glanced up, waiting for the lights to turn blue

* * *

He had intended for this kiss to lead somewhere other than what was happening now. It had just been a long, bad day, not unlike the ones he’d had to deal with before this one. And yet here Jonghyun was, having just pinned Jinki against the wall of his living room, sobbing into his chest.

Jinki hadn’t had time to say anything at all; Jonghyun didn’t allow him from the second he’d burst into the apartment as soon as the door opened, sliding his hands to cup Jinki’s face and drawing him down to crash their mouths together. The force caused Jinki to stumble back with a surprised gasp and Jonghyun just went with it, pushing his lips against Jinki’s, slipping his tongue past them to taste him as they hit the wall. Jinki just wasn’t catching up fast enough; his hands were winding around Jonghyun’s back, rubbing small comforting patches through the material of his shirt.

Jonghyun didn’t know if it was stress (changes in the works for Blue Night to bring in more listeners, his input notwithstanding), frustration (nothing helped in translating the words in his head to his tongue or pen) or something that cut deeper (Jinki dropping the announcement that he was going to be serving as a medical volunteer touring South America for six months) that made him break, but here he was, staining Jinki’s t-shirt with his tears and realizing that this wasn’t the best way to drown out those three words ringing in his head.

“It’s okay.” Jinki was murmuring, stroking his back and pulling him still closer to steady him. “It’s okay.”

No, it wasn’t.

Jonghyun’s world had changed so gradually he hadn’t even noticed. The lights of the stars, streetlights at midnight, lights that clicked on and off around him, lights that appeared in the iridescent glow of late night texts when he couldn’t sleep anyway, even the gentle glow of the morning light that followed any of these had never felt so brighter than in the time he’d run into a stranger at a concert. He wanted to just stop crying for long enough to at least carve a hole in said stranger’s chest and burrow his way in.

“Talk to me, won’t you, Jjong? You’re starting to scare me.”

Liar. There wasn’t even a tremble in Jinki’s voice.

Jonghyun felt a thumb and finger lifting his chin. And then there was Jinki returning his kiss, tender, unquestioning.

The world righted itself, if only for a moment.

* * *

The night had officially ended, but the party whirled around in fragments. Groups no bigger than duos or trios scuttled into whatever unlit corners they could find as the lights in the warehouse came on, section by section, allowing the event coordinators and their gofers to take everything else apart in due time. Jonghyun kept his attention centered on dismantling his own equipment, which one of the gofers assisted in loading onto the awaiting van outside. He would be keeping things stored at the studio, since he needed space in his own car for later.

At intervals, he would look up and feel the emptiness of the building surrounding him. Each footfall echoed; he could imagine this was how stepping on the moon would sound like.

“Hey, DJ!”

_Kibum_. Jonghyun followed the voice to where Kibum was approaching, the white lights making his skin look flushed; he could tell Kibum was still coming off an adrenalin rush, with the way his grin was a little sloppy and altogether genuine.

“JjongD has a new fan!”

Kibum’s arm that had once occupied a place on Jonghyun’s waist was now loose around Taemin’s. Jonghyun met his gaze, but said nothing. Taemin was back to looking like a fairy foundling in human skin; he was wearing the oversized hoodie he had first approached Jonghyun in, cheeks round and pink. Jonghyun fought back the urge to reach out and pinch them.

“Um, hi. Again.” Taemin stammered.

Jonghyun played along. “Hey there. You were amazing onstage. I mean it.”

He did mean it. It had been a long night and Taemin’s performance had been its highlight. Jonghyun didn’t know how Boa and Kibum had happened upon him, but he hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he got to see him. Onstage.

Taemin beamed. “Thank you. You were great too.”

“Me? I was just the DJ.”

“Kibum-ssi said you played some of your own music?” Taemin glanced at Kibum, seemingly for approval. Kibum nodded; Jonghyun watched as his hand never left Taemin’s side. “I really liked the one that came on after ‘Take the Dive’.”

“You mean, ‘Rewind’?” Jonghyun quirked a smile. “I like that one too.”

“Do you work on your own?”

“Mostly on the lyrics. For the music, I do have a team who I co-compose with. And then there are some people I collaborate with on occa – ”

“Yeah, about that.” Taemin paused abruptly. “Sorry, I’m interrupting – ”

 “No, it’s fine, go for it.”

Taemin’s right hand clasped his left wrist. “I actually just remembered I left my card in my manager’s car. But, like, if I could… maybe get your number, I could send you some of my ideas. It’s just… stuff that I think needs…”

“Feedback? Sure.” Jonghyun whipped out his wallet and fished out his own card to hand over. Taemin received it like a gift, holding it before his eyes with the tips of his fingers as a slow smile bloomed on his lips.

“Thank you.”

Jonghyun nodded. “Just send me a text first. I’ll add your name to my contacts.”

Taemin returned the nod eagerly, while Kibum’s hand shifted from his waist to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. Jonghyun watched as he leaned over to Taemin, as he said: “Give me thirty minutes to wrap things up here? I’ll meet you outside.”

It was after sending off Taemin that he finally met Jonghyun’s smirk. “What? If you’re not tapping it, I might as well try my luck.”

“You’d better not hurt him, Bummie.”

“Of course not, I’ll take good care of him. Which reminds me, we’re going for coffee later. Care to join us?”

Jonghyun had been checking his phone; no new messages.

_Okay_

“Can’t. I’m picking up someone later.”

“You’re abandoning me for a booty call again?”

“He’s not… he’s my friend.”

“Whatever you say.” A hand ruffled Jonghyun’s hair. “Maybe your friend likes coffee?”

For the first time that night, Jonghyun felt like the smile on his face was real. “Maybe.”

* * *

The day before Jinki’s flight out, Jonghyun had shown up at his apartment with a bucket of cleaning supplies. Conversation was left short and unfinished as they wiped down the countertops, emptied the cupboards, dusted the bookshelves and scrubbed the floors. It was Jinki who’d done most of the talking, however sparse, and that was by itself enough for Jonghyun. No music on the radio or streaming from playlists saved on their phones; just the sound of Jinki’s voice, tinged with a warmth that could only come from him.

It was on a day which was nestled in the crevice formed between the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, hot and dry. The windows were open to let in the breeze.

“I feel like singing.” Jinki had said suddenly. “… Do you want me to?”

Of course Jonghyun wanted to. He wanted Jinki in any way he was willing to give himself. Every little bit.

Jinki started out humming; then the words flowed out. Park Hyoshin, completely wrong for the time of year. But Jinki’s voice was low and sweet, and if Jonghyun could drink up each second of what he heard, he would’ve drowned.

There was still food in Jinki’s fridge which needed to be finished before he locked up everything for six months, so they ended up with rice and leftover banchan for lunch at four in the afternoon. Jonghyun fidgeted with his chopsticks, too fixated on Jinki’s stubby, surprisingly dexterous fingers as they picked off the remaining radish and anchovies. He knew he was craving an intimacy that was too overwhelming to contain in a simple touch. Or kiss.

He didn’t know if he would be okay with leaving Jinki with nothing but a kiss again, or if Jinki would be okay with that either.

At six, Jinki had found a packet of instant coffee with enough left over for two mugs. They sipped on these as they watched the sun descend, perched on opposite ends of the couch. When Jonghyun closed his eyes from the glare of the light’s refraction through the glass, he imagined leaning across to taste Jinki’s mouth and wondered how bitter it would be.

By eight, they had run out of things to clean or pack, and Jinki’s eyelids were beginning to droop downwards.

“I could sing you a lullabye.”

Jonghyun was only joking, but Jinki smiled and nodded encouragingly, nonetheless. So Jonghyun began, faltering at first, softly and slowly, wanting to drag it on for as long as he could; right now, with both of them lying on Jinki’s bare mattress, close enough to sense the heat from each other’s bodies. Jonghyun had thought that maybe it was only really words that he’d had to give Jinki, however little. At least all of it had been true.

When he finished, he opened his eyes and met Jinki’s. He felt his palm sliding up his jaw, cupping his cheek, and then he found himself being drawn closer, his own hand seeking its familiar place around Jinki’s back.

At two in the morning, Jinki was fast asleep in his arms and Jonghyun was kissing his forehead, whispering:

* * *

_‘I love you’_

It was three thirty in the morning; there were no words that passed at this time. Just secrets.

In another half an hour, Jinki’s flight would be landing.

Jonghyun checked the light in the back of his rearview mirror while plugging his key into the ignition. He would be waiting.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far. One more update left ~


	3. act iii: jinki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a reunion and an answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Taeyeon who makes a brief appearance in this chapter is Lee Taeyeon ^^
> 
> This fic now comes with a playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2Ww0wp8qi5drHBBcY7APHM
> 
> I would also like to thank Jonghyun for 'Love Belt' which partly inspired this chapter.

It had been the second meeting that was most serendipitous.

A little ways down the road from the hospital was a little café; just large enough to be short of nondescript. When the sirens wailed as the ambulances drove past, the glass in the single-framed large window would tremble, as if in anticipation of news. Jinki knew it was never good news, but he hadn’t gone through years of med school to graduate without some layer of impenetrability. Or in his case, just enough sense in his head to know where to let enough in and when to let it go. Doctors were supposed to like asking questions, but Jinki always let that title – and its connotations – drop as soon as he signed out after his shift.

He didn’t come to this café because it was likeable; the only reason he had was convenience. With as many hours of work in a day as he had, each second of leisure was hard-won. The library fifteen minutes away by bus would have made for a better study spot, but the journey involved more effort than he had time for. So the little café it was, with its butt-worn leather seats and 20% discount for hospital staff on anything except the specials. All he’d had planned for today, after his AM shift that ended at five in the afternoon, was to read up on the interpretation of ABGs in practice in high-level climates, update his notes and add some of the recommended bibliography to a reference list saved on his phone. A stale pastry and sips of black coffee – doused with sweetener – would provide sustenance. Not that his mother would approve, but she was one unanswered text away, so he felt secure enough.

And then in the way that things just fell into place, it began.

The door opened and the measured patter of footsteps would have just passed over Jinki as normal, except for the lilting voice that rose from the quietness to order:

“One small latte, please.”

Gradually, Jinki felt his other senses come alive to that sound: his eyes followed the shadow that had fallen across the tiles diagonal from where he sat in his booth, matching it to a pair of soft black winter boots attached to short slim legs, covered in thick black denim. He recognized the waist from his memory of New Year’s Eve; it had felt so small, clutched in his grip as the rest of body attached to it writhed beneath him, clutching his sheets. And then there was the body itself, the smooth toned back facing him, the shoulders sloped down and hunched in thought. The face was in sideways profile, the edge of a finger on the corner of a plump lip, arms folded as if to keep out the cold from the streets beyond the doorway.

And then before Jinki knew it, the face had turned towards him.

A heartbeat. Another.

Another one.

Jinki had felt the scorch of the coffee in his esophagus. Caffeine usually took up to ninety minutes to really kick in; by now, it explained the warm rush of his pulse, though his pen was still settled firmly in his hand, albeit frozen. The adrenalin should have sent a message to his brain, which should have been coordinating with his limbs to take off in flight. Or at least get the hell as far as he could from the awkward position of having to confront a one-night stand at such close quarters.

Then the light had shifted; or the body had taken a step closer, either way, peering closely at him.

(Jinki would later read an article which quoted the chances of being hit by a meteorite as one in 3,200; the chances of being struck twice was beyond his mathematical comprehension.)

The voice which had arose from that throat (tan in the setting daytime sun, straightened, instead of the arched line that had yielded to his mouth), from those lips (which had stretched wide open with laughter under the moonlight, toothy and unaffected) was the clearest memory after the soju. If a voice could shimmer, Jinki wouldn’t have been surprised to find traces of it on his pillow-case the morning after, in a glittering trail from his bed to the door of his apartment.

(Another article mentioned that the Khoisan people of the Kalahari believed that the night sky used to be a pitch-black void, until a lonely little girl had tossed the embers from a fire upwards, so that they turned into stars.)

Even though those lips had not yet uttered a word, they began to tilt upwards in an almost-smile.

When Jinki finally gathered the courage to meet his eyes, he could have sworn he saw them twinkle.

* * *

Jonghyun kept blinking as he drove to the airport. Close to four in the morning and the effects of the thermos of coffee that had been his lifeline throughout the night were wearing off, but he still felt a certain measure of anxiety. He was jittery and overdressed and there were too many traffic intersections on the way to Incheon. At the first stop, he’d removed the tie. The jacket came off at the next one. Just before the last one, he ran a hand through his hair, hoping to sweep out at least some of the gel.

He didn’t feel any better as he drove into the airport parking lot; enough so that he had to lean his head on the steering wheel for a while. For what good it would do, he didn’t know, except it felt like the closest thing to support he had at the very moment.

Bit by bit, he had to get himself up. He slowly pulled out his keys, unlocked the door and took his first tentative steps out. With his blond hair and red trousers, he must have looked utterly garish. Maybe, he wondered hopelessly, the dim fluorescent lights would turn him blue in the shadows.

* * *

Forty minutes had passed since the aircraft touched ground and Minho had sneezed eight times. Jinki had been keeping count since their flight landed; he hadn’t slept well throughout their 20 hours of traveling, not counting the few minutes of dozing at odd intervals. Minho’s seat wouldn’t recline, which meant he’d had to manage sleeping upright and crashed the side of his head onto the top of Jinki’s whenever he toppled after nodding off. After the fifth apology, Jinki offered him his shoulder instead and Minho – after a good few minutes of uneasy contemplation – allowed himself to slump sideways when the next bout of drowsiness took him down.

It was a hollow sort of comfort; to have someone sleep this close to him after so long. Six months of cramped hostels in the cities, guesthouse floors in towns and bedrolls spread inside tents in villages, and intimacy was still a rare luxury. Not that Jinki even had time for that; the least he could afford was a text home to his parents. Sometimes friends, colleagues from the hospital. There was still always that one person for whom his words were never enough. Or at least, felt like it.

Jinki had tried not to dwell too much on it. He’d sent him pictures of his meals, the varieties of flowers and shrubs his group encountered on their treks from village to village, the sun as it rose in the morning, the sun as it set, over buildings, all kinds of trees, even mountains.

He never sent selcas. The last thing worth seeing was his own tired face.

As he’d puzzled over that last text _(‘I’ll be waiting’_ ) in the plane, Seoul loomed like a glimmering constellation a few hundred miles away from land. He’d liked the irony of it; having to look down at the stars, instead of above.

(“Like what you see?”

Jonghyun’s tone might have come off as playful, but from where Jinki kneeled over him between his legs, he could sense the smolder in his eyes, radiating beneath him. He hadn’t answered and come to think of it, those had been the last few words that had passed between them that night.)

While waiting in line at immigration, Minho sneezed for the ninth time. Jinki figured he now had cause for concern.

“I do have some antihistamines in my bag, if you need any.”

“S’alright, hyung.” Minho mumbled through a wad of tissues. “Jus’ ‘llergies.”

When it came to personal health, Jinki knew better than to prod Minho too hard. He let his eyes wander over the old sights of their home airport, so strange and familiar at the same time. The time on his phone informed him that it was just gone past four in the morning, as if the bleary eyes and faces grizzled with lack of sleep told him otherwise. The line moved steadily and the tight twist of nervousness that knotted Jinki’s stomach sent a sharp pang with each step that took him closer to the counter. Past this was security and baggage pick-up, and then –

“Hyung, how’re you getting home? Taeyeon has my car, so we have enough space if you need a lift.”

“It’s okay, Minho. A friend said he’d pick me up.”

How easily that word flew off the tongue; how easily it stuck between his teeth, how wrong it felt. Jinki could barely even swallow it as he let Minho move ahead before him to present his passport at the counter. Try as he would, there was no way for that word to fit anywhere comfortably between him and Jonghyun anymore.

Then it was his turn to step to the immigration officer, answer the questions from rote memory from his travels, receive his stamped passport and just keep going. That word hung about his head, thick and heavy as mist, which made Jinki appreciate Minho’s steadiness all the more as he picked up both of their stuffed-to-bursting duffel backpacks from the conveyor belt, followed by their hard plastic wheelie bags. Jinki clapped a hand on Minho’s back and took a hold of his own baggage; right now, the weight felt nice and solid, and he hoped it would keep him grounded for a while. Just until he could extricate some purpose from the ball of nerves which had steadily built up in his chest over the last several hours in the air.

He knew that buried not-far beneath the tangles of anxiety was some measure of joy. Joy at finally feeling his roots unfurl on home-soil, for his plans to see his parents and return to his rounds at the hospital, and to be welcomed in return.

But there were the nerves thrumming, and it was almost overwhelming as they walked out into Arrivals, where the masses were waiting to greet their loved ones. Minho immediately caught sight of his pixie of a girlfriend, Taeyeon, delightedly flitting past a group of tourists to be swept up in a long-awaited hug. It warmed Jinki just to watch the little scene play out before it extended its way to him too, as Taeyeon grinned and tiptoed to briefly wrap her skinny arms around his shoulders.

“You two’ve gotten so tan, I could hardly recognize you.”

“You’re wearing my basketball jersey.” Minho complained, his smile betraying any pretense of irritation. “Did you steal all of my clothes while I was away?”

“This one was as close to a designer label as I could get, so no.”

He whined through his runny nose, she pouted and whined back; it was strangely endearing to watch. Jinki wondered if it was his own mood or if his view on relationships had been distorted somehow. Before he had any time to ponder further, a figure approached and stopped a couple of feet away from their ongoing reunion.

Jinki’s heart clenched.

Jonghyun remained mute, his lips slightly parted. He must have forgotten to wave hello.

* * *

He remembered listening to the sound of Jonghyun’s breath as he slept next to him, worn out by whatever had transpired between their hands and mouths. At times like these, Jinki would let him sleep undisturbed into the dawn.

He remembered that one time Jonghyun rolled over and flung an arm and leg over him. Jinki had been too focused on making sure his own breathing didn’t sound too ragged than to check if the other was really awake.

He remembered that knowing almost-smile; when Jonghyun caught him humming to songs too old or cheesy for his taste.

He remembered the way his nose scrunched when he finally did let out a breathy chuckle.

The way his eyebrows furrowed while skimming through Jinki’s notes on trauma surgery.

The way he walked out from the bedroom in the mornings after, his eyes always blinking, drowsy and disoriented in the sunlight until they met Jinki’s and Jinki could have sworn he understood the devotion behind stargazing.

* * *

Jonghyun’s hair was a pale blond, nearly white.

“You dyed it.”

Jinki wanted to kick himself immediately. The first three words out of his mouth and they had to be about something dumb. But Jonghyun just smiled faintly, so maybe he was forgiven.

“Yeah. Do you like it?”

Jonghyun’s hair had been dark the first time they’d met and then as the months went by, it faded in and out of earthy brown tones that glinted copper under a certain light. At night, it was almost jet black on his pillow. Jinki didn’t know how to get his point across without accidentally hurting his feelings; Jonghyun looked worn out enough and the clinical half of Jinki’s mind jumped to its possible causes. The other half already knew that there could only be one.

“Look at you.” Jonghyun murmured, reaching out and clasping him by the shoulders. “You’re so golden.”

Jinki wanted to scoop him up in his arms right then and there. Minho and Taeyeon were already strolling away to the exit, his right hand and her left entwined around the handle of his wheelie bag. He curiously glanced over his shoulder towards where Jinki still stood and shot him a comforting smile, _Good luck_ mouthed around it.

“Give me your bag.” Jonghyun was telling him, tugging at his baggage. Jinki gently shook off his hand, covering up his nerves with a smile of his own and a question as to where Jonghyun had kept the car parked. Jonghyun replied that it wasn’t far and then began to walk ahead, with Jinki following obediently.

The weight of his bags seemed to have doubled.

* * *

In the car, on the way back to Seoul, Jonghyun tried not to glance too much to the side, towards the occupant of his passenger seat. Jinki had gotten thinner; there was a new leanness to his profile that silhouetted nicely in the dark of the early morning hours. Jonghyun would take a picture if he could; he was terrible at taking them, but even so, a blurred shot of Jinki gazing outside his car window would be a treasure. A hidden one.

“You can sleep if you want. You must be exhausted.”

Jinki turned to him and Jonghyun corrected his earlier thoughts; a blurred shot of Jinki looking at him, even with his smile out of view, was an even greater treasure.

“I’m good, actually.” Followed by a pause Jonghyun didn’t know how to interpret. “… How about you?”

Jonghyun knew he could easily lie. Just let out a chuckle and say that everything’s good, and there’s nothing coffee won’t fix anyway, and he’s used to be being up all night, ruminating over everything and nothing, and hey, how was South America anyway, how were Chile, Argentina and Peru, and how different was one from the other, and what type of music had Jinki heard, what kind of people had he seen, and had he texted his parents yet, and did he have the keys to his apartment, and all sorts of inanity that would take his focus off the other questions burning a hole through his mind. Jonghyun knew that it would have been so easy to just talk, fling out words like largesse, like coins into a fountain.

But it was still only the truth that hung in the air between them, thick and tight around Jonghyun’s throat, choking him on the responses he’d deleted to Jinki’s texts from those thousands of miles away.

_‘i need you’_

_‘i love you’_

“I’m okay. Just a little tired.”

“Were you working last night?” Jinki’s voice took on a concerned pitch. “I could take over driving if you’re – ”

“No, it’s fine.”

Saying it felt so wrong and unnatural. Jonghyun allowed himself another sneak peak at Jinki; his hair had grown a little longer. Long enough that if Jonghyun were to reach out and tuck a lock behind his ear, it wouldn’t have felt out of habit for friends.

“When are you meeting your parents?” He asked Jinki instead.

“Tonight, for dinner.”

There was still plenty of time. Jonghyun kept blinking, determined to keep his eyes on the road. “I’m still reading that book, you know, the one you picked up from a secondhand stall in Goyang.”

Deconstructed, it sounded like a song lyric he would write.

“Really? You mean, _Blue_? You haven’t gotten tired of it?”

Jinki seemed to have missed that implication. Jonghyun couldn’t blame him; it was all in his head and in a world that only existed when he tried to fill said head with someone else’s words, and even if all Jonghyun could see was himself and Jinki in the endless blue sky and sea, in that one falling star, in Onew waiting for the inevitable, it was all what Jonghyun had made of it himself in the end. He had never known how to make it as clear in real life, written in his own words on letters which were never posted and texts which always ended up in his drafts before getting deleted. Even now, sitting in his car, with nothing but a gear shift separating him from Jinki, it was all really down to three words:

_I need you_

_I love you_

“Yeah. It’s like… every time I finish it, I realize I didn’t pick up on something the first time around. It’s one of those stories.”

“Oh.”

“It’s in the glove compartment if you open it. You can have it back.”

Jinki didn’t seem to object; he also hadn’t made a move to open the compartment which was right in front of him. Jonghyun wasn’t exactly the praying type, but he almost muttered a divine plea for this – and the pang in his chest – not to be a sign.

“I’m glad you’re back, Jinki.”

Maybe that was as far as he was supposed to go. Jonghyun swallowed, but the pang was now sharp enough to bring a tear to his eye. Never mind, he would blame it on road dust, being awake for too long, just being stupid and sentimental.

A thumb had reached his cheek to catch the tear before it slid down the side of his face. He didn’t know which one of them said it first, but it was suddenly out there, clear as day:

“I missed you.”

* * *

Jinki had seen his fair share of tears in the emergency room, but he hadn’t developed the same amount of resistance to Jonghyun’s. He’d only wanted to wipe that off that stray tear because it wouldn’t do for Jonghyun to be driving in a such a state, and he hadn’t banked on hearing those words, the same which had been eating at him during each odd hour he’d suddenly awoken in a foreign land with nobody beside him.

Jonghyun had leaned into his touch.

It was early enough in the morning for the darkness to still lie dominant over everything, but late enough for secrets to lay even more still before they could bloom into loudness, words which spiraled out of order. The windows in the car were drawn up, the glass clear, but the darkness would cover everything that unfolded within.

Jonghyun was leaning over the gear shift, capturing Jinki’s waiting lips with his own, then pulling the car over to the side of road before unbuckling his seatbelt and swinging himself across onto Jinki’s ready lap while another tear trailed down his cheek, unchecked.

Jonghyun kissed him like he meant something; every word fraught with his wet tongue, his hands cradling Jinki’s face. Every possible answer Jinki had prepared went to waste as Jonghyun held onto each gasp of his, as if to savor the sound before closing his mouth over it. Jinki had no time to think, just enough spare seconds in which Jonghyun undid his own seatbelt to allow his hands to slide under his sweatshirt while Jinki grasped his arms. He wondered what he’d done to deserve such ardor as Jonghyun went on to reach under the seat to make it recline, enough for him to undo the button on Jinki’s cargo trousers, then the zip, then press his lips to a place which immediately had Jinki biting his own.

(Jonghyun wondered if Jinki could ever hate him; it was a stream of thought he drowned out with each breathless gasp he could draw out of Jinki. If his words failed him, he would leave them to his tongue to press into Jinki’s mouth instead. Jinki could have everything: the wreckage of each lonely night, each lonelier morning, each day that Jonghyun had scraped by without him. Each and every piece of Jonghyun, Jinki could have him whole, above, beneath and around him.

When Jinki relinquished his grip on Jonghyun’s hair and himself into Jonghyun’s mouth, Jonghyun took it with a sigh of relief.

And when Jinki pulled him back up to switch their places, Jonghyun allowed his world to shrink, contract itself around Jinki’s lips on his throat and his nimble hand shoved down his trousers. And if Jinki ever had a doubt of what lay in his head, Jonghyun would let the organ pounding in his chest speak for him as Jinki unbuttoned his shirt, pressing his free hand to the hot skin beneath.

Jonghyun came undone inside the tight circle of Jinki’s fist with a shout and as the world returned from the white flash behind his eyes, he opened them and found the sky awash with light.)

* * *

It was fortunate that they didn’t actually go into a café to get coffee. Jinki was thankful that Jonghyun knew of a place nearby where they could get their orders to go; he was even more thankful that he knew of a place where they didn’t have to sit in the car, now that it reeked of themselves. It was somewhere by the river that they chose to stop for a while (“And let the car air out.” Jonghyun sheepishly muttered.)

Whatever clouds that had emerged with the dawn were now scuttling away with the breeze, leaving behind a blank blue canvas. Jinki was sitting on a bench, Jonghyun shifting uncomfortably beside him and the cardboard holder containing their coffees in-between them. The wet spots on the clothes felt sticky under the mild heat.

It was Jonghyun who began. As always.

“I didn’t mean for it to end up like this. I’m sorry.”

Jinki jerked his head from fixating on the sky to Jonghyun. They had come full-circle, from the river at night to day, Jonghyun laughing under the moon to Jonghyun staring at the sun on the surface of the water. Now that they were so close, he seemed to have retreated further away.

“I…” Jinki picked up the coffee holder and placed it on the other side, so that he could move in to Jonghyun’s side. “I don’t understand? What’s there to be sorry for?”

Jonghyun’s laughter; a brittle, bitter sound. “Just your body and mine, right? What we agreed on?”

The truth, at last. Jinki’s heart sank.

“At first.”

“At first.” Jonghyun agreed.

And then:

“I had better words for this, I swear.”

And then:

“Every night. Just lying in bed and they would be there, right in my head.”

And then:

“And now you’re finally here and I…”

Jinki’s face must have fallen, because Jonghyun was apologizing again: “Not like that, sorry, it’s just me. I’m the one who came onto you first, remember? I couldn’t help myself and I still can’t help myself. I like you so much.”

There was something strange in Jonghyun’s tone, how strained it felt, like his tongue was bitten. Jinki really wished he could understand.

“I kept liking you and I thought I could _just_ keep liking you, you know? And now – ”

“You don’t?”

Jinki’s voice came out so small it might have been lost. Jonghyun looked absolutely aghast for one second before framing Jinki’s face in his hands, despite their trembling, and brought him closer so that their foreheads brushed, eyes meeting:

“I don’t have a single word to contain what I feel for you right now.”

(Jinki still remembered the day he – _they_ , the team he was part of, he reminded himself – lost a patient; the girl had been in high school, in the peak of health, and then a speeding office worker had put paid to any prospects either of these qualities might have entailed. She had still been alive when the ambulance brought her in, weeping and whimpering for what was left of her life, and Jinki had put every fiber of his being into making sure she would at least get to that part, doing exactly as he was told, exactly as he’d learnt, exactly as his textbooks had said, telling her not to worry her heart too much, until it gave out.

It just gave out. 3 liters of blood gone and the long, high beep of the monitor. She’d flatlined and he’d kept trying to literally shock the life back into her, hoping against facts and fate that she would have a happy ending, and it just gave out.

He hadn’t sought answers then; not even from the comforting words of his colleagues after they declared the time of death, not even from a phone call home to his parents. He hadn’t even needed Jonghyun for that night; but he wanted him.

The kisses, the foreplay, the sex which followed, Jonghyun losing his mind in the last throes of his release, he had wanted all of this then. For what, he couldn’t define, except that being with Jonghyun reminded him of greater things out there in the universe and even if he wasn’t meant for such things eventually, there was always comfort in knowing that they still existed regardless.

_“Jinki, things aren’t okay now. But they’ll get better. I know it will.”_

Jinki hadn’t been sure of it. But the soft pressure of Jonghyun’s head on his back and his hand on his waist had been what they were, reminders of nothing but Jonghyun’s presence in his life. Jonghyun was supposed to leave afterwards, but Jinki had still awoken to the sound of his breathing in the morning.

Jinki hadn’t understood then.)

Jinki understood now.

* * *

“Jonghyun, I…

“…please listen, okay?

“We were trekking through Bolivia once. To a village; we were supposed to conduct free check-ups for the inhabitants. We’d started on time, but the paths were rough and we were just chasing light at some point. So it got dark and we had to stop and set up camp in our tents. I was so tired when Minho and I finally settled down, but I still couldn’t sleep, so I got up and left our tent, just to stretch my legs. I figured if I walked around for a while, I’d really tire myself out eventually.

“It was pitch dark, but you get used to it when you’re traveling around areas like this. And the thing was, I looked up and all I could see were stars. You can’t really see them in the cities because of the light pollution, but they were right above me out there.

“There must have been millions of them. It was like something out of a novel. They were all just… glittering. Glowing. Beautiful.

“And I felt miserable then, because all I could think of was you.”

Jinki finished with a quiver in his voice.

Jonghyun let out the breath he’d been holding.

Then: a laugh. That pretty silvery laugh Jinki had missed, and loved.

Their coffee had gone cold by now, but none of it mattered. Because Jonghyun was laughing into Jinki’s upturned mouth, right through a sudden outpouring of tears, telling him: “I kissed you across from here, I just remembered. Right on the other side of the river. At night. And now I’m going to kiss you again.”

Jinki hoped it would lead to something even better.

He smiled into Jonghyun’s first kiss –

_I need you_

And entwined their fingers together during the second.

_I love you_

* * *

“Admit it, you hate my hair.”

Jinki had allowed himself to be led by the hand to Jonghyun’s apartment. They’d had to drive a good fifteen minutes in the opposite direction from Jinki’s, but the day was young and the sun was shining. He had never seen Jonghyun look so happy at this time in the morning. Six months ago, Jinki would have never imagined such a sight.

He took his time, allowing his gaze to run along the soft lines of Jonghyun’s lips and cheeks, before replying: “It’s you.”

A faint blush dusted Jonghyun’s face and neck before he finally managed to one-handedly unlock the door.

It was an apartment slightly larger than Jinki’s that they walked into, though similarly sparse on furniture. Jinki counted a sofa, a coffee table cluttered with papers which Jonghyun scurried to pick up and organize, two densely packed bookcases that beat both of them by a few inches in height, a fuzzy grey rug over the wooden floor and –

“Oh, I forgot…”

Jonghyun scooped up the shy dachshund from behind a black leather ottoman, where she’d been peering cautiously at Jinki.

“This is Roo. Roo, this is Jinki.”

Jinki took one look at the big limpid eyes and knew he was a goner. “She’s so pretty.”

It was enough to make Jonghyun grin again.

“How’d you know my kid was a ‘she’?”

“I have a friend who’s a vet.” Jinki deadpanned, and Jonghyun laughed again, flashing his molars. Jinki wanted to bottle up that sound and carry it with him everywhere. Then, he remembered –

“I got you something.”

A puzzled flicker rippled through Jonghyun’s features. “Jinki, you shouldn’t have – ”

“It’s just something small.”

Small enough to tuck into the front pocket of his trousers. He pulled it out and held it out for Jonghyun to take.

“It’s a weird coincidence that I managed to find the exact breed.”

It was a bookmark, black and tan, dachshund-shaped, with a magnetic strip in the fold. “So it won’t fall out when you put down whatever you’re reading.”

Jonghyun’s lips twitched upwards. He thanked Jinki with a press of his mouth to his, a present which Jinki happily accepted, and it would have gone elsewhere, had Roo not begun to whine from her perch in Jonghyun’s arm. They stopped to giggle a little, Jonghyun cooing to Roo reassuringly. Then Jinki was shown the bathroom and bedroom, and Jonghyun told him to take his time.

“Use anything you want. I’ll give you something to sleep in.”

Later, in Jonghyun’s cramped shower, Jinki realized that in all the time that he’d known him, he’d never taken Jonghyun out on a date. He might have to remedy that sometime, he mused, as he wrapped his arms around Jonghyun’s waist, letting the water cascade around them, nuzzling the familiar crook of his neck and even though he couldn’t see it, he knew Jonghyun was smiling too.

* * *

Jonghyun knew exactly where to make use of Jinki’s gift.

He picked up the paperback and flipped through until he found the exact page he’d left off on:

_‘He reached out with both his hands cupped and received the star as it finally landed in his own trembling palms. It was the smallest treasure he could ever call his own, but the most precious. He would open his eyes to the light and allow it to surround him, embracing him finally. Neither of them, he now knew and accepted, would deserve anything less.’_

Jinki was lying next to Jonghyun in his bed, with the covers drawn up and around his shoulders, but not entirely enough to hide the yellow t-shirt Jonghyun had lent him. He looked good in yellow; Jonghyun would let him keep it.

He inserted the bookmark in its place and put the book down on his bedside table. Now that Onew had found his light, he would go back to his.

There was a question that still hung around him as he lifted the covers to join Jinki ( _‘Where do I go from now?’_ ), but at least he knew he wouldn’t be answering it alone.

“Can I hold you?”

Jinki lifted one eye open and nodded, drawing closer, and as ever, Jonghyun pulled him in.

Today was theirs. And so was the next, and the next.

Outside, the sun continued its ascent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed ~


End file.
